


Reindeer Games

by RomanDiget



Series: More Shall be Revealed [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Doctor Strange (2016), Scarlet Witch (Comic), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 15:23:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19478677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanDiget/pseuds/RomanDiget
Summary: It’s Saturday morning, coffee and girl-talk, Frisbee in the park, and certain eager beaver burning the candle at both ends. What could possibly go wrong?





	1. Rainy Days and Mondays

**Author's Note:**

> Set post Endgame/spoilers alert. Mostly Harley, Pepper is surprisingly good at this Avengers stuff. The Asgardian's finally join the party. I really should be working on other stuff.

Aristos on East 43rd Ave brewed a ridiculously good cup of tea. It was a magic Wanda couldn’t replicate no matter how many attempts she made. Maria joined her on the postage stamp New Yorkers called a terrace with a cup of her own. “This is divine. How do they make hot-leaf-water taste like this?” 

She feels herself grin. Maria usually drank the same tar as all the other military twats, and when she felt self-indulged it was inevitably Meyer’s Mexican Mocha. “I am tempted to claim it’s witchcraft.” 

Maria raises an eyebrow; it was a provocative statement but she doesn’t feel the need to explain. The Barista and her boy-Friday were the most darling little Goth children Wanda had ever seen and if they are dabbling, it’s the harmless sort. 

Marie thought of Wanda’s abilities as a sort of intuitive manipulation of physical laws humans did not yet recognize. She might be right, but onward and upward “So, did you ask him?” 

Maria’s challenging stare relaxed into something that resembled contentment mixed with satisfaction. “I did.” 

“And?” Wanda was still adjusting to having normal relationships. Locked up in the Sokovia Castle since she was nine and then in the Avenger’s Tower until she sided with Captain America in his rejection of the Sokovia Accords, she still felt lost in most personal interactions. Maria had become her benchmark. The woman was ferociously competent but equally ready to admit when she was out of her depth. In this moment Wanda felt like a flailing teenager but that had to be okay. “Oh, come on -- spill sister!”   
“It was very nice.”

“Nice?” Wanda squeaked. “Nice -- then he said yes?” 

“It took some persuading.”

“And?” 

“And you should have seen their faces” Maria was gloating. Wanda had limited exposure to the one percent but they had not been kind; Maria had even less flattering things to say about New York’s upper crust. 

“I wish I had. Are you going to see him again?”

“Of course, I’ll see him, he’s pretty hard to miss.” 

Maria was teasing her and that called for a little revenge. “Well if you’re not that interested, maybe I should ask him out.” 

The dreamy look on Maria’s face fled. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

***

James felt eyes on their little group. Bryant park was supposed to be open to the public but the knot of young African American men and their hostile stares at the three young men playing frisbee made his skin crawl. 

He was sitting on a blanket Teddy had brought with a basket packed by Billy’s mom and two knapsacks. Setting up in the shade on such a fine day was a concession made to the long sleeve shirt and gloves James wore in public. It was Saturday morning and logic had been to enjoy the park before it got too crowded. The group on the side walk indicated this was a miscalculation, originally three dumpy if overly tall 20 somethings had found something that seemed to fascinate them. Now there were seven and at least two of those in their 40’s and pretty fit 40 at that. As James watched, two families hastily pack up their stuff and left the Park with nervous backward glances. Leaving him to consider that today’s Brooklyn might not be so different from narrow minded Borough he remembered. In his day the economic competition between Negros and the Irish had settled to a low boil but the historical anger and resentment had still run deep. 

The boys had been having a good time, shirtless and sweating they focused on their game, adjusting their positions a couple of times when they got too close to someone’s blanket or when someone strolled across the green, oblivious to the plastic disk hurtling through the air. 

Even without his shirt Peter wore the bracers that anchored his web-slinging. Thin black leather decorated with beveled copper studs covering the titanium splints for stability and the small reservoir’s containing Peter’s unspun webbing. They looked cool if totally decorative. James had seen other men wearing leather a lot more ridiculous in the East Village.   
James felt a thread of resentment start to gain traction. They weren’t doing anything that should be objectional. Billy and Teddy hung on each other a little bit but nothing that was overtly sexual, so what was this hostility about? A white cargo van pulled up to the group and James held his breath. However, the men ignored the van completely and after a momentary flash of relief, that gave James something else to worry about. 

Two more young men joined the group, and the muttering rose in volume and they stepped onto the grass. Getting to his feet James pulled off the glove covering his metal hand. 

At the same moment Peter miscalculated a jump and missed his catch, the spurt of web however caught the disk reeling it back in to Peter’s hand. The men froze in their tracks, jaws dropping in shock. Peter landed on his feet a hot blush staining his face, and looking right at James as if embarrassed.

“That’s effing Spiderman you dope.” 

“Nope, no, and hell no” said another “he rescued the preacher’s wife from a mugger.”

The voices got softer and more heated as young men peeled away from the group. The group was down to five when the side door on the van popped open and two undercover cops got out. Undercover because they were dressed like civilians but they didn’t swagger like paid professionals and their posture was too sloppy for Feds, they did sport that take no shit from undermench common to law enforcement everywhere.

“Is there a problem guys?”

“No sir” said one.

“Just taking a walk” said another. 

“Good” said the balding Pisano. “Cause we heard there were some haters prowling the park. You guys be careful. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to our fellow citizens on such a lovely day.” 

“It’s good to see familiar faces back in the neighborhood” said the ginger. “We want to keep seeing you, okay.” 

James sat back down in shock, maybe the Borough had changed. 

He was putting his gloves back on when the boys came trotting up. “Sorry” said Peter. “It was a reflex move.” 

Billy and Teddy stopped short on their approach, looking from James to Peter and back again in confusion, and then Peter winked at him. 

“I think we can overlook this one time” James said. “Who’s hungry?” 

***

Harley looked at the report the engineering department sent him about Peter’s polymer. They had some reservations but overall it was a go. A second file marked ‘urgent’ appeared in his que and he opened the description of a mining device that functioned using focused sound waves. The schematics were labeled in runic script and his heart sank a little bit. He struggled with regular English but he was clearly going to have to learn Aesir if they were going to continue collaborating. However, the ‘Urgent’ wasn’t going to give him time for that. 

“Friday, do we have and English to Aesir dictionary?” 

“Aesir is a mythical race described in Norse mythology there is no description of the language they might have spoken.” Friday could be too literal sometimes 

“Do we have any language texts for New Asgard?”

“The people of Asgard own a technology called All Speak that automatically translates between persons speaking different languages.” 

“Can it translate written forms of Asgard into English?” 

“I have no record of written text being translated by such a device.”

“Friday, do we have a list of Norse runes and their translation?”

“We do.” 

“Please display a holographic image.”

Tony’s worktable bloomed with multi colored images. The translations on the left were a uniform color and size. On the right the runes appeared in various colors, some rotated and others appeared to be multidimensional. “Friday, is the holograph matrix correctly aligned?”

“Imaging software is operating at 99% efficiency.” 

“Do you see what I am seeing?” 

“The runes are not two-dimensional representations” Friday declared. “Analyzing!” 

“Oh, wow” 

Harley had been a fan of Norse Mythology since he was little. As he studied the runes more details became visible and one notable rune was missing. “Friday, abort analysis.”   
The hologram dimmed, flickered, brightened, and then began to grow. “Friday, emergency shutdown, protocol scarecrow!” 

The lab went black. 

It took two hours to evacuate the tower and Harley felt like a wreck. Pepper was pacing like a caged lion while she used a burner cell phone to coordinate with security staff. Morgan was with her nannies in one corner of the banquet room and pouting at the disruption of her day. Since it was Saturday, the number of staff inside the Tower was minimal, unfortunately that meant no one was 100% sure that everybody was accounted for. Add to that, the media had gotten wind of a story and news teams were roaming the plaza and surrounding blocks looking for sources of information. 

Lord Tyr arrived from his residence and stood patiently waiting for Pepper to finish her instructions. “Use the stairs, I want every room and every elevator car searched.” She disconnected the call, and stood still scanning the room. 

Satisfied that everyone in her immediate orbit was accounted for she turned to Asgard’s representative. “Lord Tyr, thank you for interrupting your plans.”

“Of course, Ms. Potts, how can I be of service?” 

“Harley, can you describe events for Lord Tyr.” 

“I received the schematics for a sonic excavator this morning and was trying to translate the runic notes.” 

Tyr nodded “that was ambitious, I didn’t know you were interested in languages.” 

“Not so much, but the English text wasn’t really comparable to the diagrams. Our AI didn’t have access to a dictionary or any means of translation, so we pulled up an academic translation of the Norse runes.” Harley was still trying to wrap his mind around what he saw and the memory was giving him a headache. 

“Are you alright young man?”

“My head hurts” and for the second time today, the room went black. 

Harley woke up. The ceiling was unfamiliar as were the silky sheets against his skin. A blurry face peered down at him, and it was a moment before his eyes focused enough to see it was a girl about his age. The combs in her golden hair were elaborately decorated with enamel flowers, but she was wearing a cardigan over a white blouse. “Where?”

“This is Lord Tyr’s apartment and I am Hati. Tyr wants to talk to you once the room stops spinning.” 

Spinning, yeah, the room wasn’t exactly holding still. “Did I faint or something?”

“Tyr will know. Would you like some water?” 

“Yes, please.” She turned to a decanter on the window sill and he paused to admire her figure. He was just planting his hands on the mattress to sit up when he realized all the places the sheets were touching. 

Hati turned back around with a tumbler in her hand, and he pulled the sheets up to his chin.

“You should sit up.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“She looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled radiantly. “Oh, the nudity taboo. Your folk are not very consistent. Some walk around nude anytime the weather permits and others cover everything but their eyes. Why is that?” 

The last thing Harley wanted to discuss was why people got naked. “Where are my clothes?” 

“Tyr had them destroyed.” 

“What? Why?” 

The door panel slid aside and Tyr stood there. “Because you had a brush with an interdimensional being and the residue on your garments was intransigent.” 

“What?” 

Switching to spoke English Tyr said “it’s complicated. We have a team in route to cleanse Stark Tower. You will be traveling to the refuge where skilled healers can set you to rights.” 

“The Refuge? You mean Asgard, I’m going to freaking New Asgard?” 

“It will not be that unpleasant.” Tyr frowned. 

“No, no. I didn’t mean it that way. How long can I stay?”


	2. While Making Other Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How much trouble can one teenager make? Harley gets out of the kiddie pool and things go south from there. New Asgard gets their oar in. There is a very pretty girl, totally out of Harley’s league, but what else is new.

With Stark Tower off limits, at least temporarily, Pepper had gone to Fury’s vault for this difficult conversation. “Well the fox is among the hens now” Fury said. 

“Are you saying this is my fault” Pepper asked with air quotes. “Because I was minding my own business, happily married and raising my child, when this was all dropped in my lap!” She caught hold of her temper by the fraying edge and lowered her voice “As I am sure you are aware there are new developments in play.” 

“The impending tsunami, I have heard” Fury frowned. “Fortunately, the ‘chemical spill’ at Stark Tower has the media’s attention for the moment. But I have to ask, what really happened?” 

She takes a breath to collect her thoughts while Fury waits patiently. Fortunately, or not, those thoughts coalesce into a narrative fairly quickly. “Based on Lord Tyr’s assessment, one of my researchers had an encounter with one or more extra-dimensional beings. How he had enough sense to initiate a security shut down I have no idea.” 

“Aliens, shape shifters, time travel, alternate realities, why the hell not include Extra-dimensional lifeforms to the mix.” 

Pepper quelled the laugh she felt bubbling up. “When does the insanity stop?” 

Fury huffed. “It began a long time ago. Fortunately, we have a different frame of reference than the kings and priests of old.” Pepper absorbed that. It wasn’t often Nick Fury gave direct answers. “We don’t have to just sit here and take whatever the universe throws our way, but that only works if we don’t try to explain it away.” 

Good advice, but advice that opened a lot of questions. “If you think you’re going to hand me an assignment, think again.” 

The 120-watt smile cracked the obstinate boulder that was Fury’s face. “You have more than enough on your plate. Harley and Peter are going to need passports. I’m sure Lord Tyr will take care of them, but better safe than sorry.” 

Pepper gritted her teeth and counted to five before trusting her voice. “If you have sources inside my organization pull them out now, because I will find them and I won’t be gentle.” 

“Please don’t do that” Fury said with a mournful note in his voice. “Harley Keener has been on our radar for years, and the people I have in place are there to support your security not report on your activity.” 

The break in Fury’s smug façade was disconcerting. A million years ago he installed Natasha inside Stark Technologies. Pepper still missed her. However, there was no time for either of them to dwell on that loss when the living were in harms way. “Speaking of security, this incident proves we are too centralized. I will be reorganizing our operation centers effective immediately.” 

“That sounds sensible” he said guardedly. “You have a plan?” 

“We have properties in several areas that were hard hit post decimation, an influx of jobs and technology might be especially useful at this time.” 

“If you ever turn to the Dark Side, I am retiring.” 

“Pot, meet Kettle.” 

His eyes shuttered absorbing that, and then he shrugged. “Touché!” 

Flexing his shoulders and rubbing his palms together in anticipation Fury leaned a little forward. “Now, Peter and Harley because they are your science-wonder boys. May I suggest Mr. Barns for security purposes?” 

“I would rather have Barns legitimately on site than camping in the snow” she says.

“That is probably accurate. I am surprised either one of them shows up to work consistently.” 

“Peanut butter and jelly” Pepper agreed. “It will be interesting to see how they work together in a different context.” 

Fury’s rueful chuckle hints at uncomfortable revelations, and Pepper doesn’t want to know. She has never been comfortable with the knowledge her intimate activities are a subject of observation. In that light, Tony’s flaunting of his many indiscretions was almost victorious. But Fury was still talking “now, Asgard doesn’t have any aircraft of their own. May I offer the use of a Quinn-jet?” 

“You may offer, I will have to ask Lord Tyr if that is acceptable.” 

“Fair enough” he concedes. “As for your other project, how can we assist?” 

“There may be a dormant Hydra cell in Albany.” After the decimation Tony and Steve kept up the pressure on the cabal, and while extra legal means against active operations received a blind eye from authority, Steven balked at moving against those whose only discernable crime was relationships with deceased agents of Hydra. “I would like for that to be dismantled before we start recruiting new employees.” 

“We can do that.” 

The crowd at 3AM in Terminal Nine was mostly cleaning staff, and deliveries to the various shops, airport security had swept the area for stranded travelers twenty or so minutes prior to his group’s arrival. Foreign dignitaries got special treatment. Especially if the host country thinks there is something in it for them. The promise of Asgardian technology was like catnip to pretty much every government, even Wakanda was interested.

Hurry up and wait is the mantra for all airplane travel though they did have the advantage of Tyr’s diplomatic credentials to by-pass TSA. Harley set down his case and draped the heavy wool coat Pepper had insisted on, over the top, as Tyr gave detailed instructions to Hati about the trip. She was going along as guide, translator, and chaperone, though why anybody thought he needed a chaperone was a mystery. On the other hand, she was good company while he recovered. For three days Harley experienced intermittent flashes of vertigo, accompanied by smelling colors, and hearing shapes. Hati sat with him through all of it. If she took it as an opportunity to practice her English and learn more about life in New York, that was only sensible. That she dodged questions about Asgard like a fish darting about in a pool, was understandable if frustrating. Through the windows Harley watched the charter from Tromso pull up to the departure gantry. They were flying to Norway, and even if it was going to be eight hours in the air and another ten by boat, he was excited. 

Tyr was present to take charge of the team that would cleanse Stark Tower of the Alien Influences. Harley’s brain still tripped over that term, but he didn’t know what else to call it. There was an Asgardian word for it, but he couldn’t find the right places in his mouth to make the sounds. Maybe human vocal cords couldn’t do it, though his ears heard it just fine. Harley had sat alone in the darkened lab for over an hour before security showed up with a key card to let him out. During that hour he had watched seven symbols of the original 23 pulse with dim light, change hue, rotate and rearrange the sequence of the total collection. All without an erg of current anywhere in the building. 

Tyr had been tight lipped and brooding ever since hearing Harley’s description, and that couldn’t be good. Light and motion were manifestations of energy. With all of the building’s power shut down, that energy had to come from somewhere. Harley was only guessing but the intermittent headaches and vertigo he was experiencing wasn’t promising.

So, when he saw the Asgardian Team exiting the gantry Harley felt like he had been hit with a block of wood. “Are you alright” Peter asked? 

“They’re kids.” Alright he amended in his head, teenagers, but still. “Who brings a knife to a gun fight?” 

“They took terrible loses resisting Hella” Peter said. That gave Harley something new to agonize over, orphans, an entire society of orphans. He had to get that reactor operational.   
Hati had come to stand beside him. “Our bodies mature more slowly than your people but our minds are a little bit faster. By your counting of years most of that team are in their twenties, and we would not have summoned them unless they had the skills to rectify the problem” 

He felt the heat rise in his cheeks. There you go again, acting like a hillbilly and judging people you know nothing about. “So, more like bringing an M16 to a gun fight?”

“What is M16?”

Peter patted Harley on the shoulder and walked back to his boyfriend. 

“An M16 is an old style of battle grade assault rifle. Kind of antique now, but still embedded in entertainment and games.” 

“So M16 is appropriate in a gunfight?” 

“Yes” Harley replied. “So, how old are you as we count the years?” 

“Mr. Keener, a gentleman never asks a lady her age” 

O’gawd, what was he thinking? Then the stiff and disapproving line of her lips twitched, her cheeks turned pink, and Harley knew he was being made fun of. “Never said I was any kind of gentleman.” 

“Oh, but you are. You are the best sort of gentle-man.”

The sudden rush of warmth was confusing and he turned to look at the Asgardians as Lord Tyr gave instructions. Except for their determined focus on Tyr’s words, they might be any group of well turned out high school students, jeans, shirts, sweaters, here and there an odd bit of jewelry or ornament that indicated Asgard, but yes, they looked like teenagers to his eye. However, the three whitehaired individuals he had previously ignored were wearing Asgardian robes draped in complicated folds. Their locks, even those of the elderly man were elaborately plaited. Noncombatants he thought, those too young, or too old to fight against the tyrant that took their home. 

Harley had survived the decimation, but his sister and mother had died in the resulting chaos as planes, trains, and automobiles, bereft of their operators had piled up in smoking wreckage around the globe. Here he was, traveling to a community devastated by the loss of people that would never come back. The trembling started in his gut and rapidly spread. 

“Harley, what’s wrong” Hati’s arm was around his waist, and the tenderness of that touch was more than he could bear. 

“I need to sit down.” How could she be so kind to an alien stranger when her life and that of everyone she cared about was in ruins? 

Tyr was at his side too, together they escorted him to a seat while everybody looked on with varying shades of worry. How could they to worry about him in the face of everything else? 

Harley felt the familiar tightness around the chest and once seated he lowered his head between his knees. One breath, and another, he fought back the panic and kept counting, shutting everything else from his brain to focus on the count.

“This is the one?” The odd vibration of the All Speak pulled at his attention, but he shut it down and kept counting. 

“den växlande” Tyr said. 

“Has this happened before?” 

“No, he loses track of where he is in space and time but I’ve never observed difficulty breathing” That was Lord Tyr, that the All Speak supplied the identity of the speaker was previously unnoticed. That Harley’s brain was starting to pick-up on things outside of him was a good sign. 

“It’s a panic attack” that was Peter’s voice. Trust another nerd to recognize the signs. 

“Lord Tyr, I don’t understand.” 

“The boy is frightened” Tyr said.

“A coward?” That was contempt, you didn’t need All Speak to translate. 

“Never!” Tyr replied. “But he is younger than you might think.” 

“Peter, this condition is known to you” Tyr asked? 

“I’ve had them. Sometimes unexpected things will trigger the grief, and it’s like losing the person all over again.” 

“You should call it something else then.” Was the very firm opinion, and Harley was just about done being discussed like he wasn’t in the room. 

His arms had been dangling between his knees, now he brought his hands up to his thighs and levered himself up. His face was going to be red and there was no helping that. “I’m going to be fine.” The stranger was one of the old ladies, and great gods she was over six feet tall. 

At the moment she looked rather embarrassed. “It is a very imprecise tongue; I hope you will forgive my literal understanding.”

These were important people; they had come to clean up his mess, but the words for accepting that apology stuck in his throat.

“I will survive.” 

Peter edged forward with a concerned look at Harley’s face before facing the battle axe. “Across the barriers of time, language, and culture, some misunderstandings are bound to arise. I am reminded to choose my words with great care.” 

Look at wunderkind defuse the situation by shouldering the responsibility for everyone. That was actually more irritating than the old lady thinking that her opinion of his courage, or lack of it, was significant. “Can everybody look at something else for a while?” 

Lord Tyr smothered a smile as he turned back to the Asgardians. Since Harley wasn’t the intended audience, the All Speak left his head alone this time. 

Hati was still sitting next to him. “I keep forgetting how much younger you are than me.” She said in English. “You present as a young man, knowledgeable within your study but willing to admit your limits. That is a very fine quality.” 

There it was again, that warm feeling in his belly. This time he let it sooth the knots and kinks in his gut. He hadn’t felt like this with another person since he was little and that brought up all sorts of questions, but maybe he should think about them first. 

“Hati, I think I need to apologize.” 

“For what?” 

“For being stupid. In my mind Asgard is a place of wonders whether I’m reading the sagas or listening to the stories Tony and Bruce used to tell me” his throat tightens around the last. “I didn’t think about what it must mean to you. I was getting frustrated because you wouldn’t answer my questions, and I thought it was a diplomat-thing. I never imagined that it must be painful, and I’m awfully sorry.” 

She draws back from him her face as tight and unhappy as he has ever seen it. “Harley Keener, if you make me cry in front of Lord Tyr and the Science Council, I will never forgive you.” Then she gets up and all but marches to the Ladies room. 

WTF!


	3. Earned not Bestowed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know that is what you heard, but it is not what I said. Boundaries, what boundaries?

The sea is plenty rough, but Harley has been nauseous for the whole trip. Hati hasn’t said more than two words to him since the airport. Right now, she is standing in the bow with the wind pulling her hair loose from its plaits one golden strand at a time. She turns to speak with one of the sailors, her face red from the wind and cold spray, and laughs at something the sailor says back to her. All those words lost to him, stolen by the wind. The knot of misery tightens a fraction more; Harley thinks about hurling himself into the sea, but a on a boat loaded with Asgardians, someone would fish him out for sure, and then he would die of shame. 

The Guillemot is a relatively small boat and not meant for open seas, 80 feet bow to stern and 30 feet across. The hold is meant to carry supplies to isolated fishing villages, while the oversized cabin give shelter to passengers between ports. He knows sea-planes are more commonly used for passengers but Asgard is pretty adamant about limiting the presence of outsiders in their airspace. 

A shadow looms on his right and Harley turns to see the Winter Soldier sit down next to him. “Kid, you got to snap out of this endless mooning. It’s not doing your cause any good.” 

Peter’s boyfriend hasn’t spoken more than three words at a time to Harley since that day in the Tower, so this is as unexpected as it is unwelcome. “I’m not mooning.”

“Okay,” he drawls, “for the sake of argument. What are you doing?” 

“I don’t get it” Harley says. “I realized what a pest I was, and apologized. Then she says she’ll never forgive me.” His voice wilts, “I thought we were friends, or were becoming friends at any rate.” 

The Soldier frowns. “That was your take away from that conversation?” 

Unwelcome, and now confusing “that’s what happened. You were there.” 

“I was” the Soldier agrees “and either your ears are faulty or you really are dumb.” The guy gets up from his seat and walks to the back of the cabin. WTF! 

Who does that old fossil think he is? Anyway, what does millennial old assassin know about normal life and friendships? On the other hand. Harley looks at Peter, working through some equation on his Stark pad. The soldier, no, Harley corrects himself, James. Peter always calls him James. 

James sits across the table from Peter and picks up his own device. Its thicker than the Stark pad and has a rugged titanium shell that would probably survive a bomb. Peter looks up, smiles, and goes back to work. They don’t say a word to each other, but based on the contented intimacy radiating from the pair they might as well be snuggling. 

Okay, that’s a thing, and where he thought things were going with Hati. “Oh!” The idea bounces in his brain like a ping-pong ball and with the same gradual decrease of momentum, until it slows enough for him to examine “but that’s ridiculous” Harley mutters. The Asgardian’s have very strict rules about interspecies pollination, and Hati as much as told him, he was too young for her. 

Harley decided right then, that feeling terrible and not knowing why, was definitely preferable to knowing what you wanted, and all the reasons you could not have it. Turning his irritation back to the source, how the hell did Peter land the Winter Soldier as a love interest? Peter Parker nerd extraordinary, and playground punching bag. And -- Winter Soldier’s boyfriend? It made no sense. He was missing something. 

Okay: Peter Parker and Tony Stark, how did that happen? Peter, with his new polymer, that kind of material would interest a lot of people, though Stark Industries wouldn’t be Harley’s first choice for a marketing pitch. Peter had an Aunt. She might have been the brains behind the pitch. Most any other company would buy the formula outright leaving Peter in the cold when the royalties rolled in. Even a cagey old bird probably wouldn’t know that.

Second point: Peter was familiar with the Avengers, like really familiar. Until Peter was abducted, Harley had never been in the same room with any of them except Dr. Banner and Thor, and the way they had hovered over Peter while the doctor was examining him was like a bunch of older brothers and sisters. 

James hadn’t done the sibling thing though. He had been scared shitless. Like point me at something to kill, before I self-combust scared. So that had been going on for a while. 

Hell, Peter left the funeral with James. Picking that apart, Harley concludes they hadn’t been a couple yet. 

That business when General Ross took over the Tower had been crazy. Harley hadn’t known what was up when he fled, only that everyone was acting like pod-people. Peter marched in there like he owned the joint; and he got shot -- and he still manages to rescue Pepper and Morgan, and call in the Avengers to clean house. How does that work?  
Harley looks at Peter, the thick wool sweater makes him look bulkier than he is. Peter is always wearing long sleeves, no matter how hot the day is. Harley though he was hiding his skinny arms. But He has seen Peter without a shirt and the dude is shredded. Like, how does a guy like that get beat on the playground? 

Harley feels his face heat. The knot in his stomach melts. He is suddenly on his feet and standing over Peter’s table. “Show me your arms.” 

“What?” 

“Show me your arms, Peter.” 

James turns sideways on the bench seat and smiles. It’s not a nice smile, more like a wolverine baring its teeth. “Harley” he says. “Lower your voice.” 

Harley nods sharp and just a bit terrified. “Okay, scoot over. Peter and I have to talk.” 

“You could sit in my lap.” 

“Ew!” then he looks at the thin T-shirt stretching across James’ chest and shoulders. Would that be so bad? Hati had some curves but she also had serious muscles. A couple of images run amuck in Harley’s brain. He shakes his head violently trying to get back on track. 

James turns back to face Peter and slides over to make room for Harley. As soon as Harley sits the metal arm drops around his shoulders in a companionable hug that is closer to being frozen in amber. His alarmed squeak makes Harley's face burn. 

“Alright” James whispers in his ear. “We’re all cozy now. Say what you have to say.”

Peter closes his work on the pad, and puts it back in his bag. “James, you’re scaring him.” 

“Nah” he purrs. “Just giving him a sample, he was thinking about it. You saw.” 

“I saw, and if you defile a sixteen-year-old virgin there is no hole deep enough Pepper won’t find you.” Peter’s look of pity hardens “and I might just help her” he adds.  
James relaxes his arm but doesn’t remove it. Harley gets his heart beat back under control, notices the glitter in Peter’s eyes, and because he’s a vindictive punk, grins as he settles back into James’ embrace. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That you’re Spiderman, duffus.” 

“It is needs to know only.” 

“And I don’t need to know?” 

“Honestly” Peter smiles like a shark, “I was waiting for you to figure it out.” 

“We’re nerd brothers” Harley says outraged all over again. The arm tightens, and Harley drops his voice back toward a whisper “I could have helped.” 

“You did help” James says, “and you will again”. 

Their visitors had made short work of the dimensional breech within the Tower and given Wanda techniques to prevent future intrusions. The Asgardians had refreshing prespective on her abilities, they discussed possible applications with caution but not outright fear. Tomorrow she would be meeting with their Science Council to discuss theory.

For now, she worked on a side project while the City rested from its labors and fewer minds clogged the Ether. Wanda stared at the obstinate collection of artifacts on her work table. A sheet of paper tracing Harley’s genealogy, a quartz crystal she had liberated from a German shaman, and a lock of Harley’s hair recovered from a waste bin in his lab. This wasn’t her cup of tea by a long shot, but since her powers resulted in the violent reorganization of matter, she had been puttering with some of the older texts looking for gentler and less destructive methods. 

For a few weeks after the return Wanda considered moving out of the Tower altogether. Memories of Vision passing through walls and his constant surprise people didn’t see him coming had intermixed memories of his death. For a long-time she described that as a murder. The self-loathing had very nearly driven her insane and that had been another motive to move out. It was stubbornly mortal Clint that convinced her to stay and that no one on the planet was really safe if Wanda lost her mind. While the chance encounter with Tommy Shepard made her doubt what little sanity she still claimed to have, it gave her something else to focus on. Tommy and Billy defied rational explanation but she would not refuse her heart. 

A sharp rap on one curtained window disrupted that train of thought. It was with a certain satisfaction that she pulled aside the curtain to see Stephen Strange floating in the night sky 80 floors above the pavement. 

She went to the solar, and opened the glass panel leading to the Terrace. Strange was uncharacteristically tentative as he landed on the tiles. “You are full of surprises” he said. 

“To what do I owe this honor?” 

Strange was momentarily silent examining the architecture, or more likely the energy flows through and around the architecture. “However, did you manage this?” 

“Pepper specifically requested I limit your access to her property.”

The Sorcerer tugged on the edges of his cloak as if straightening out the draping. An effort that was totally wasted because the magical artefact managed its own appearances. The furrowed brow might betide a number of subjects being considered and rejected, after a moment his face settled in a frown. “You have a problem.” 

“Which one?”

“You realize this would all be much simpler if I was directing the Avenger’s efforts.” 

Wanda hazarded a guess. “If wishes were dolphins, Lemurians would ride.” 

“Exactly!”

“I am not the person you should be approaching.”

“Oh, but you are. Lemuria has gotten wind of this proposed alliance with their ancient rivals, and they are not pleased.” 

“It sounds like a military problem.” 

“I assure you it is not.”

“Sorcery then, surely Kamar Taj can defend itself against fish people.”

“How long are you going to keep me standing out in the cold?” Strange snapped. 

“Until I see a benefit to inviting you inside” Wanda replies. “You have a purpose? Speak or begone.” 

“The children are here” he says implying a motive.

Wanda makes a twisting motion with her wrist and a hole of deeper darkness opens behind the Sorcerer and sucks him inside before closing with an audible pop. She examines the ragged hole in the terrace balustrade that went with him. Looking out over the City she notes that the stars are brighter than she remembered. It’s a full minute before the golden disk blooms in open air about 30 feet from her terrace. 

Strange floats through, brushing an impressive amount of frozen ammonia off his shoulders. “That was unpleasant.” 

Wanda waits. She could as easily have dropped him on Venus as she did Titan, and he has to know it.

“You’re still angry” he hazards. 

“Keeper of the Time Stone, speak to me of Harley Keener.” Dr. Strange glowers, and she interprets that as reluctance to be blackmailed. 

“What would you know?” 

“His parentage, and his possible futures.”

“It’s not a TV Guide. You don’t just flip a few pages and find the answers.” 

“All relationships are a matter of give and take, Sorcerer.” 

“You think, I take more than I give?”

“I think, you want something, and believe we will not be willing to give it.”

“And this information would balance the scales?” 

“It would be a credit, to balance against the many resentments.”

“Why this boy” Strange asks? 

“You tell me” Wanda replies.

A swirling golden disk formed under Steven Strange’s feet. “Wanda Maxminoff, your grandfather would be proud.” Then he drops out of sight. 

“Last damn word” she growls closing the terrace door. “Always got to have the last damn word.” There was no doubt he had trained as a medical doctor.


	4. Eye in Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for Pepper to step-up, and doubly hard, because Tony’s decisions good and bad are whispering in her ear.

Maria Hill looks at NATO’s tracking data and swears under her breath. Carter, keeps her face neutral in spite of the inventive language. “Take this to Director Fury. He can call an emergency session. 

“It is what it looks like” Sharon Carter queries? 

“It is a Russian submarine running silent in Norway’s territorial waters, they pull this kind of stunt all the time.” 

“They used to” Sharon corrected. 

“You don’t think they are rattling our chain?” 

“I think they were deeply offended when Asgard turned down a fertile island in the Black Sea, for frozen plateau in Norway.” 

“That was years ago, why” Maria Hill shut her mouth and thought hard. “Politics” she mutters. “More exactly, the politics of the displaced asserting they are still relevant.”  
Sharon was still standing there face relaxed, eyes alert. “If you’re waiting for further insights” Maria said. “You are going to be disappointed.” 

“Yes Ma’am. On my way Ma’am.” 

***

Moving from their mountain cabin back to the City had been a major upheaval for Morgan, but one Pepper hoped would blunt some of their collective grief. Tony had always favored open plan living spaces, but Pepper preferred her world to be more contained. Across the generous hallway from her bedroom, were rooms for Morgan, her nannies, and a live-in maid. Household staff were always a point of vulnerability, and not one she was inclined to leave unsecured. Adjoining Pepper’s bedroom was her personal office, where she was now. 

Pepper got off the phone and went to her computer and began initiating security and recovery protocols that had been in development for most of a decade. “Tony Stark, you maddening and prescient genius.” Pepper was looking forward to the day when one of Hammer’s hostile take-over attempts was her biggest challenge. “Friday, contact Captain America and ask him to meet me.” 

“Right away Ms. Potts.” Part of the AI’s genius was the ability to read whether the situation required formal styles of address or would be made more comfortable with informality.

Belinda peeked out of her door, no doubt alerted by the lights and sound of Pepper moving at speed. “Good, you’re up. Wake Clarice, I want an overnight bag packed for Morgan. The three of you will be flying to Albany within the hour.”

“Ms. Potts?” 

“Discretion Belinda, your utmost discretion is required.” 

“Yes Ms. Potts, right away.” Belinda scurried about her assigned tasks. 

“Ms. Potts” Friday’s voice spoke into Pepper’s earbud. “Dr. Banner and Ms. Maximoff are here to see you.” 

“Send them to the dining room. Has Sam Wilson responded?” 

“He is landing on the office’s terrace just now.” 

“Thank you Friday, please let him in.” 

One of the French doors swung open, and Falcon strode in, the Captain America shield slung over his back. “Ms., Potts, what’s going on?” 

“Russia has an armored division poised on their border with Norway, and a submarine on an intercept course with the boat transporting Harley and Peter to New Asgard.” 

The news stopped him cold. 

“Lord Tyr is requesting a video conference” Friday announced. 

“Tell Lord Tyr I will be in contact shortly, and contact Director Fury. Ask if he has anything to contribute?” 

Her T-shirt and sweatpants were not appropriate for this kind of meeting. “Sam, Bruce and Wanda are in the next room. Please brief them while I get dressed.” 

Ten minutes later, Pepper had traded her sleep-wear for slacks and a dark jacket, her hair was up in its French knot, and she had taken a quick pass at the make-up with lip gloss and a bit of blush. Hardly her best effort but at least the formalities were attended to. 

Striding down the hall from the bedrooms, she crossed the cozy living room and into a second hall leading to the foyer and dining room. The kitchen had its own table and chairs for private meals, but the dining room was for more social gatherings and was sufficiently grand and impersonal to impress visitors with the owner’s wealth and taste. 

“Friday, are we cued for the video conference” she asked? 

Friday answered as Pepper entered the room where three Avengers were waiting. “Lord Tyr is declining the invitation to include Director Fury.”

“What, why?” 

“He says there are conflicting loyalties in play” Friday answers. 

Who’s conflicting loyalties Pepper wonders? “What does Fury have to say?” 

“The director says, a Quin-jet is available to the Avengers on request, but he is not otherwise inclined to meddle in the affairs of foreign states.” 

“In other words,” Sam deadpans “fuck-off with your secrets and see what they get you.” 

“What has happened” Wanda asks? The mutant is wearing loose trousers tucked into high boots, and one of the thigh length flowing vests that she favors, her hair gathered in a horsetail flowing down her back. Bruce is wearing sweats, as if he had just tumbled out of bed. Which begs the question. What was Wanda doing up and dressed at this hour? 

“Nothing unusual” Pepper answers with enough layers of sarcasm to make an onion blush in shame. “Friday, can you tell Lord Tyr we are ready?” 

“Lord Tyr is initiating conference-call.” 

The apartment seemed to be overly warm and as Tyr’s figure appeared on the screen, Pepper made a personal note not to raise her arms while speaking to the diplomat.  
After the Asgardian’s face, the second thing she noted was the sound of frantic activity in the background. “Lord Tyr, what is going on?” 

“We are preparing to defend the residence.” 

“From who?”

“From the Russians” he said with an incredulous stare. 

“The Russians wouldn’t dare openly attack a diplomatic compound.” 

“I beg to differ, their ambassador just informed me, my State has not been recognized by the UN or any of its members. Therefor my diplomatic credentials aren’t worth the paper they are printed on” 

“That’s why you don’t want to share information with Director Fury” Sam says. 

Tyr’s blinks, “Captain America, I presume?” 

“You are correct Sir. We haven’t met before.”

“Nor are we likely to in the future” Tyr says with an icy tone. “Ms. Potts, I am pressed for time and require this to be a private conversation.” 

Pepper is dumbstruck at the request. “Lord Tyr . . .”

He cuts her off with a wave of his hand. “Ms. Potts, if I am unsure who our enemies are, I am at least sure of a few potent friends.” 

“It’s alright Ma’am” Sam says. “I’ll leave this to you.” He leaves the room followed by Bruce and Wanda. 

After the door closes behind the Avengers, Tyr’s face settles into a strained smile. “I don’t mean to be discourteous. I count you among our friends, but I have not been as forthcoming as perhaps I should have been.” 

*** 

The Quin-jet lands on the tower’s roof. Wanda gives Tommy and Billy a hug before boarding, followed by Falcon. Rhodey hands Pepper the case carrying her rescue armor. The jet is fast but even at maximum speed it will be several hours before they reach Norway. “You are sure you can handle this” she asks?”

“They’re still raw” he says, “but they won’t get any better until they see action.”

Leaving children, even superpowered children behind to defend both Tower and the City, grates all kinds of nerves, but it is marginally better than dragging them into a possible war zone. “Try not to die.” Rhodey is one of Tony’s oldest friends, and while his armor is probably the most robust thing Tony ever built, the Iron Patriot is inclined to push its limits.

“Rescue, focus on your task and leave me to mine.” That was good advice. His calling her after the armor’s moniker was probably meant to reinforce her attention on the mission.  
That she was leading a mission made her breath stutter and her heart ache. Sending James and Peter with Harley was supposed to have kept the boy safe. She had never imagined that he was a danger to them; Lord Tyr was going to get a second piece of her mind when this was over. 

Boarding the plane her husband had designed and then gifted to S.H.I.E.L.D. was a little traumatic, but so was the whole venture. Fury’s generosity in supplying the Quin-jet to her team for this mission deserved one hell of a fruit-basket. When she saw the pilot was Melinda May, Pepper revised that to two cases of quality scotch. Not that Fury would know the difference, but she would. 

The quin-jet was two and half hours over the Atlantic and approaching Norwegian air space when Pepper cracked the seals on the case. All she had to do then was engage the armor with the bracelets Tony had made for her. His were red and gold while hers were silver and lavender, to compliment her eyes, he said. She had never seen those colors in her reflection but Tony swore they were there. While the rest of the team stood back the armor assembled around her. 

“We’ve just been forbidden Norwegian airspace, Ma’am” the Melinda called out. “What should we do?” 

“LORI, how’s it look in there” she queried the built in AI. 

“All system are operational” Logistics-Operations-Reconnaissance and Information reported. 

“Our target?” 

“Please specify target” the AI requested? 

“Primary mission target is cargo hauler Guillemot. Secondary target, potential hostile Komsomolsk class submarine.” 

“Last know position of the Guillemot 130 kilometers east, south east. Reported sighting of suspected hostile 100 kilometers Northeast.” 

“Anticipated interception of the Guillemot by potential hostile?” 

“Insufficient data” LORI reported. “Available marine charts are inadequate to plot hostile vessels course.” 

Pepper, swore softly in spite of the fact there were no minors to be corrupted. Tony had always excused his joyriding around in the suits as debugging exercises. She should have taken a page out of that book. 

“Ma’am, they are getting testy” the pilot reported. 

“Ms. May, tell them we are in distress and need landing clearance.” 

A minute went by, then two. “All foreign aircraft are ordered to leave Norwegian space or be fired upon” she reported. 

“Pepper” Sam said. “That is not about us.” 

“I’m afraid you’re right, Captain America.” 

“Ms. May, how long till we intercept the Guillemot?” 

“Twenty minutes Ms. Potts, but we have multiple boogies at six and twelve O’clock.” 

That made her heart skip a beat. The Quin-jet had serious tactical advantages but it couldn’t slug it out with multiple opponents unsupported. “LORI, who are they?”

“Multiple targets, likely origin Severomorsk airbase. Second target traveling at a sustained Mach 2, first contact at 60.20N by 20.16W.” 

Sam’s jaw dropped at the report. “It has to be a drone” he said. “A pilot would stroke-out after 10 minutes at that speed.”

“There’s nothing but open ocean at those coordinates” Bruce chimed in.

“Shit!” Now she knew who the players were. “Ms. May, how much distance do we need to maintain from the water to avoid surface displacement?”  
Melinda’s face transformed from her grim (we are all going to die) expression, to the golden glow she got when somebody else did something very clever. “In this weather we need at least 40 feet.”

“Engage stealth technologies and drop to 50 meters above sea level.” 

May grinned. “Better strap-in. this is going to be a bumpy ride.” 

Pepper engaged the magnetic locks on her boots and took a two-handed grip on one of the aircraft’s steel trusses, while Sam, Wanda, and Bruce, fastened safety harnesses. She kept her eye on the developing tactical situation. Things were about to get seriously rude.


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any one wonder what kind of catnip Tony Stark keeps in his pockets?

New Asgard was nothing like Harley expected. The port could have any Norwegian postcard, all brightly painted cottages and quaint little fishing boats. Tall gray cliffs loomed over the sea. It was a long and rugged track before the wind swept plain came into view with its herds of reindeer, muskoxen and flocks of wild geese.

Beyond that the sheer sided plateau brooded menacingly. It was within the last mile he recognized this was not a chance of geology but a work of art. He gaped at the massive stone figures carved in the mountain side. “Those are my ancestors?”

“Your grandfather’s ancestors” Brunhilde corrects. “Your mother was the child of a Valkyrie. Now that we know another shield maiden survived the battle with Hella, we are searching for her”.

“And my father, is he still alive?” 

“Almost certainly” Brunhilde says. “Sleipnir is a transformational being. Very few things could truly kill him and we would almost certainly have noticed the emanations of such a death”.

“The stories say Sleipnir was Odin’s horse.” 

The Valkyrie Queen’s expression goes through some complicated adjustments. “Sleipnir was Odin’s page and battlefield companion. Though the verb to ride, might easily be mistranslated to imply a mount of some kind, we don’t have horses on Asgard.” 

In light of recent feelings Harley pursues a different question. “So, I am half Jotun and half Aesir?” 

“That is complicated. The Aesir and Jotun are both children of the Vanir” Brunhilde says. “In you, the blood-lines are reunited.” 

“What does that mean?”

“We really don’t know, and that is why you are here.” Brunhilde looks at the grotesque monumental sculptures. “When Lord Tyr reported you had summoned the runes into corporeal manifestation we became alarmed. The Infinity Stones are extradimensional beings as are the Runes. The parallel is unsettling.”

“I would never . . .” 

“You cannot in truth say that” Brunhilde interrupted. “You spoke Pertho, a word long lost into being.” She looked toward where Pepper stood with the Avengers. “You did not know the danger and for that we are partially to blame, but I can not release you back into the world. You will stay, you will learn, and perhaps you will teach. The Vanir were 39 in number but the Allfather’s sacrifice gathered only 24 of their names.” 

Harley looked toward the Asgardians standing out of ear-shot. Hati was among them, she had bound his tongue after he uttered the first Rune. There had been a string of them come into his mind when the Russian sub rammed the Guillemot. Asgard was right to be afraid, he was scared. Even the Bible acknowledged the world was spoken into being. Was it a stretch to think it could be spoken into nonexistence? 

“I won't say no, but you need the Arc Reactor too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The AU nobody asked for. It started as me being pissy about Marvel canonically denying stucky. Then my friend asked for some Pepper. By the end of that I had a whole head-canon going. This is the result


End file.
